


Misplacement

by beekeepercain



Series: In Fewer Words [19]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 12:09:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2580929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beekeepercain/pseuds/beekeepercain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Prompt:</b> Sadreel + first kiss</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misplacement

* * *

 

It’s never been like this. This isn’t what it should be, and Sam’s knees are giving in. His breathing is shallow, his hand trembles as he tries to place it somewhere and ends up misplacing it over Gadreel’s waist. That isn’t what he aimed for and he was, he could swear, going to back out from this, from whatever this is about to be. His eyes are lost when he glances up at the angel and he sees a reflection of himself in Gadreel, the same confusion, the same backing out without backing anywhere, the fear and the sudden cessation of time itself. They can’t move. There’s nowhere to go.

The angel shifts; it doesn’t break the shell that has been carved for them into the stillness of the world around them. It barely causes the air to waver around them. It doesn’t matter: he isn’t leaving. And neither is Sam. The younger sighs; his eyes close and his other hand reaches for the waist as well. His heart beats slowly, too slowly, but he can feel it in his ears, every single pulse, and his lips part and he lets out a breath and when he draws in air, it smells of leather and cotton and sawdust from the ground. He’s not the one leaning in, however. He doesn’t expect Gadreel to, but suddenly his face is cupped between two firm hands, and he has lips over his - it isn’t forceful, it’s like giving up instead. There is no question, because no question is needed: Sam was the one who started this. He was the one who placed his hands over the older’s waist and then stayed. He was the one who said  _please_  and parted his lips and then waited, waited for this to happen. He opens his lips some more, allows the angel to taste him, to map out the texture of his mouth, the smoothness of the inside of his lips and the soft ripples of the front, and then finally he joins in to do the same for Gadreel, and he finds that his body is sinking closer to the middle between them somewhere until there is no middle, just two bodies together. He breathes in something thicker than air and he wants to drown into this kiss, to stay in it without the need to face what comes after it - the phase where they regain footing, try to make sense of what they’ve suddenly become. This angel that he thought he hated, thought he couldn’t stand seeing, thought had hurt him in more ways than a man could take, well, it doesn’t seem that way now.

Sam brings his hands up, fumbles about the older’s arms but passes them and touches his face instead, not as confidently as Gadreel touched his but getting there, and he brings him closer, begs for some passion to the kiss. He gets it, although it surprises him as much as the fact that the older is who initiated the act to begin with: they struggle for a moment to find a common rhythm, but once it’s there, it feels natural like it was never gone at all. It isn’t just Sam’s heart racing here, it’s the other’s too, he can feel it against his own chest, and the fact is comforting somehow. They’re both nervous. Both in love. Both lost, but it doesn’t matter.


End file.
